


Copper Asunder

by Tallfroggie20



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26053864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tallfroggie20/pseuds/Tallfroggie20
Summary: This fic is based off a post by unfocused-overwriter on tumblr.Tulsi Copperfield won the 46th Hunger Games at the age of 17, clawing her way back to a normal life only to discover that perhaps there couldn't be a normal to go back to. Even whilst fighting her own demons, guilts, and regrets, she fell in love and had twin children. They have grown to an age eligible for the reaping, and on one fateful summer day, Tulsi's world shatters as not just one, but both of her children are chosen for that year's Hunger Games. But she is a mentor and a mother, and she will not sit idly by as they are sent to their deaths. She will fight tooth and nail so that at least one of them can survive.(This was originally meant to be more than one part, but it ended up being a one-shot that ends in a cliffhanger. I won't revisit it, but I also didn't want to orphan the work. If you want to read it, just be warned.)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	Copper Asunder

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The fic has been deleted](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/671671) by unfocused-overwriter on tumblr. 



Tulsi Coppersmith woke up on the day of the Reaping in a cold sweat. As she sat breathing heavily in her bed, she tried to shut out the flashes of memory.

_Dilapidated concrete, blood, running, running, killing--_

She shook her head feverishly. Today would be a bad day for memories. Her heart was already beating out of its chest. She knew the date the moment she awoke. A shiver rippled down her spine.

_A man, pulling a slip of paper out of a glass ball. He smiles as he reads the name. “And the female tribute for the 46th Annual Hunger Games is… Tulsi Coppersmith! Congratulations! Please come up to the stage.”_

No. This Reaping would not be like that one. It could not be. If the one of the twins--

Again, Tulsi forcefully stopped a terrible train of thought. She sighed shakily, moving the thin grey sheets as she got up to walk towards the closet on the other side of her large bedroom. She hated dressing up for a death sentence for two children, kids that she might know, might have watched grow up only for their life to be snuffed out before adulthood, but she was a Victor, and Victors had to present.

Drawing a gold-white dress from her closet, she shifted to look in the mirror she kept behind the closet door. She rarely looked at her reflection, for when she did she swore that she could see flecks of dried red dotting her face, her hands, every inch of her copper-brown skin. At least the white would compliment both colors.

She gathered the courage to bring her eyes up to her face, half expecting her reflection to leap out of the mirror and strangle her for her sins. But it did not shift until she moved, gathering her black hair into an updo. It did not stab her with the golden pins she placed into her hair. It did not choke her with the delicate gold and sapphire necklace she clasped around her neck. It did not gouge out her eyes with the makeup brushes she rarely used. It seemed that she would not be facing her penance quite yet.

Gathering herself, checking her reflection one last time in the mirror, Tulsi Coppersmith walked out of her room to wake her children.

* * *

“Moooom,” Ferric whined, “I hate this suit. It keeps chafing. Can’t I wear something more comfortable?”

Tulsi smiled gently, shaking her head. “I’m sorry darling, but you only have to wear it for a few hours. The Reaping won’t be long, and then you can put on all the comfortable clothes you want.” She looked her son over as he still squirmed, pulling at a cobalt tie. “Besides, you look very handsome,” she said with a wink, turning towards her daughter.

Zanna and Ferric always insisted on wearing matching colors, so her daughter was wearing a similarly colored cobalt dress. Tulsi started braiding her hair, the same black color as her mother and brother’s. Her children bore so much resemblance to her and so little to their father. But if she looked hard enough, she could see small parts of him. The children had the same wide mouth, the same smile that she had fallen in love with all those years ago.Their eyes glinted with the same mischief whenever the twins played a prank on a classmate. The same hands worked to put on Ferric’s golden cuff links. These little parts of Mason still lived on, but her husband was gone.

“Ferric, are you done getting ready? We have to get there early.”

Tulsi hated the presentation of the whole thing, hated having to drag her children with her every year to watch other kids be sent off to slaughter. But such was the way of the Reaping. Such was the way of Panem.

“Yeah, I’m coming, Mom. Its just these stupid-” Ferric wriggled his wrists, trying in a futile attempt to button his sleeves. “-Agh! Mom, can you just button them already?”

“C’mon, Ferric! It’s easy for me,” Zanna said, giggling and rolling her eyes. Ferric stuck out his tongue as Tulsi smiled and shook her head, buttoning her son’s cuffs. The twins were very close, and thus teased each other mercilessly.

When the last of the dreaded buttons was properly done, it was time to leave their home.

* * *

The Victor’s Village was mostly empty by the time Tulsi herded her children out of their house. Perfectly manicured lawns stood in front of every abode, and most houses had either never been lived in or their occupants had already left for the Reaping by the time that her family was ready. The only other people Tulsi saw were Cecilia and her own three children. The two women didn’t talk much, but Tulsi rarely talked to any other Victors. It simply hurt too much. Out of all of them, Cecilia was one she liked the most. Perhaps it had something to do with her having children of her own. They shared bonds of both motherhood and suffering.

Tulsi nodded to the other woman and they turned onto the same street. Zanna sparked up a conversation with Delia, Cecilia’s eldest daughter. At twelve, this would be the first year that one of Cecilia’s children would be eligible for the Reaping. It was only a year ago that Tulsi had the same experience. The panic she felt that year and now was inescapable. She could only hope the next five Reapings would favor her and pass quickly so that she would never have to feel that worry again. As they stepped onto the main avenue that would lead to the dreaded event, Cecilia gave Tulsi a small, tentative smile that could only be shared between two near-strangers who both feared the same thing.

They took their places near the front of the stage at the Hall of Justice, waiting for Zedo Heavensworth, the man that had been the escort for District 8 for the past eleven years. He was a sickeningly perky individual, as most citizens of the Capitol were. Tulsi remembered their frivolous fashions, their inclination to spend an exorbitant amount of money on ridiculous body modifications and ever-changing trends. She was lucky now to only have to see those people under rare circumstances, or during events like this one. She had made it very clear early on that she would use what little power she had to ensure that such people would not disturb her day-to-day life or interact with her children.

Ferric slumped under the summer sun, his suit clearly even more uncomfortable in the heat. She empathized with her son, of course. She wasn’t comfortable in this dress either, but this whole thing was a show. And so a performance would be put on.

“Ferric, I know you hate this, but you really need to stand still. Just for a little bit,” Tulsi said, leaning down to her son’s ear.

He grimaced, but did as he was asked. The regular townsfolk were filing in now, many having cleaned the grease of engines and various other machines off and dressed up the best they could. Most grimaced with either apprehensive sorrow or annoyance, but some stuck to the shadows, making morbid bets on who would get picked, and others looked excited, either actually enjoying the games in a sick, twisted way or hoping to gain favor from the Capitol that would never come. Children too young to understand what was going on weaved through the crowds, playing amongst each other before parents or older kids reigned them in.

The Reaping would start soon. 

* * *

“Hello District 8! It is my distinct pleasure to welcome you to the drawing of names for the 72nd Annual Hunger Games,” Zeto Heavensworth exclaimed, puffing up his chest as he stood behind a microphone, two familiar glass bowls flanking him on either side. “As is tradition, I will draw two names, one from each bowl. These two names, one boy and one girl, will become this year’s tributes for District 8. If I call your name, please come and step forward and onto the stage.” Zeto smiled with too-white teeth. Tulsi got the distinct sense of wolf bearing down on them, ready to tear out their throats. Zeto continued. “I will now draw the names. Remember, happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!”

May the odds be ever in her favor indeed.

Tulsi wished that no child had to walk up to that stage, most likely to their death, every year. But wishing did nothing. She learned that years and years ago, when her own name was called. As Zeto stuck his hand in the bowl full of girls’ names and Tulsi’s head started buzzing, she faintly remembered that she had been worrying for the past two months with the knowledge she was to be this girl’s mentor. She wished that another Victor was chosen to mentor for that year. She wished she never had to mentor again. The years that she’d mentored prior had been… bad.

“Remember, if I call your name, please come up here and join me on the stage.” Zeto pulled out a slip of paper and opened it. “And now, it is my distinct pleasure to announce that this year’s female tribute is… Zanna Coppersmith! Zanna Coppersmith, congratulations, and please come up to the stage,” he exclaimed with a huge smile.

* * *

_A different time, a different man. He smiled as he called her name. Her heart stopped. She was rooted to the ground. A few onlookers regarded her with pity, but guided her to the stage. She would not learn the male tribute’s name until later. There was nothing in her mind except that smile as she walked toward that platform._

* * *

The crowd turned to look at Tulsi now, many with that same pity in their gaze. She did not see.

Cecilia placed a hand on her shoulder. She did not feel.

All her attention was focused on the feeling of cold as her daughter left her side. She did not even have time to pull Zanna into a hug before she was led away. A single tear rolled down Tulsi’s cheek. None more came. She was past devastation. She wanted to sob, to rage, to beat her fists against the pavement until they broke. She wanted to take her daughter far away from this hell. But Zanna was already too far away, and Zeto had drawn the boys’ slip of paper.

“And joining our female tribute, Zanna, will be…”

Zeto read the slip, his lips temporarily forming an ‘o’ of surprise. It disappeared just as quickly as it came.

“Well, this is certainly uncommon,” he said, quickly quirking his lips into another too-perfect smile. Tulsi wanted to scream, to rush onto that stage and beat those unnaturally white teeth in, to take her daughter, to--

“The male tribute for this year is Ferric Coppersmith! It seems that this year, we will have a brother and sister duo from District 8! How exciting!” The smile grew brighter and brighter until Tulsi’s world was only white. She could see her son as if through a curtain of snow that refused to melt in the hot summer sun. Unlike her, the moment his sister’s name got called, the tears had started pouring unabashedly down his face. Yet the small amount of hope he showed that she might survive and come back to them was dashed the second his own name got called.

As he mutely started walking up towards the stage, Tulsi couldn’t stand it anymore. The tears her body made her hold back broke through the mental dam in a torrent of salt and sorrow. She grabbed her son’s hand, letting loose a loud sob as a Peacekeeper promptly wrenched it away from her. Other tears sprung from the eyes of a few members of the audience at such a cruel and twisted fate for not one, but two children to be ripped from the same mother, forced to fight against each other in the bloodbath that would take place in the following weeks.

“That concludes the choosing of this year’s tributes! Remember to tune in and watch how these two do in this year’s Hunger Games! It’s sure to be an interesting one!” Zeto just kept on smiling as Tulsi’s world crumbled around her. “And if the mentors would come with me, it’s time that we be off. Thank you everyone, and happy Hunger Games!” Zeto turned on his heel, the twins mutely following behind, grasping each other’s hands so tightly that Tulsi could see the whites of their knuckles from her position in the audience. Several members of the audience clapped. Others stayed silent. It didn’t matter.

She was a mentor. She was going to keep her children alive.

She walked onto that stage. She practically ran, so that she could be by her children again. The other mentor for that year, Reed, was a younger man in his early thirties. He was going to keep her son alive. If he couldn’t, then she could. Her children were not going to be sacrificed for some sick entertainment. She ignored the pushing thought in the back of her mind that only one of them could survive, if that was even possible.

_No._

She had clawed her way from certain death all those years ago. She had not given up then, and she refused to give up now. Reed was competent enough, much better than Woof, the mentor of the boy that had been Reaped her year. She still remembered that boy’s hair. Red, but the wrong shade at the end.

They made their way into the Hall of Justice. They walked onto that train -that painfully familiar train- still herded by a large group of Peacekeepers.

Zeto smiled, and Tulsi Coppersmith started to plan.


End file.
